Djoran Dragons
by Imperial.Archon
Summary: It's been twenty years since Drago and his enslaved Bewilderbeast were defeated. One day Iona, the daughter of Hiccup and Astrid, discovers a dragon unlike any other in the forest. She and her friends and family are thrown into a different world and meet new friends, discover new dragon species, and, of course, run into danger.
1. Prologue

_This is Berk._

_ Twenty years ago, the Isle of Berk was caught in a war led by Drago Bludvist. Riding upon and controlling his enslaved Bewilderbeast, the Alpha, Drago laid waste to much of the Isle, using the Alpha to control everyone's dragons. In an attempt to kill Hiccup, the unofficial chief of Berk, the insane man had the Alpha belch out a mass of ice. Toothless, a Night Fury fiercely loyal to his rider, leapt to defend his friend, protecting him from the attack, but getting encased in cloudy blue ice in the process._

_ Angered, his body glowing blue, Toothless broke through their prison and rose to challenge the Alpha. Hiccup was on his back, glowering at Drago, who was eyeing them with anger and shock. The intensity of the bond Toothless and Hiccup shared broke the spell the Alpha had over Berk's dragons; they circled over the young pair, facing their former enslavers._

_ After a series of attacks and a finishing blow from Toothless, the Alpha, defeated and missing a tusk, plunged into the sea._

_ Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III became the Chief of Berk and Toothless became the new alpha dragon. Under their rule, Berk was restored to its former glory._


	2. Mother's Sorrow

Rendered invisible by its silver scales, a dragon entered the bone-strewn chamber, its tail dragging on the freezing rocky floor. She held her head low as she half-dragged, half-walked herself to her nest. The blizzard that happened recently, harsh and violent, was not characteristic of the Alpha or Beta. When one of her hatchlings had not come back, the wyvern had gone out in search for her, even going as far as to beg the Alpha to send out dragons to help. When all the attempts resulted empty-pawed, she went into depression.

Lashing Tail lay in her nest, snorting with frustration and sadness. At the next rise of the Moon, she would search for her little one again. She'd search the forest and valley for as long as she has to, if that's what it took to find her hatchling!

Her mate, Sun's Tooth, sighed deeply when he entered the den, his claws clicking on the smooth rock as he headed towards the nest. His calm demeanor had always steadied Lashing Tail, but she could see from his tense stance that he was just as worried as she.

"It's only been a few rises of the Moon," Sun's Tooth hummed, craning his slender neck to peer into the nest. It was a natural depression in the rock borne from many generations of use, surrounded by the bones of various plant-eating prey. "Moonlit Fang could still be out there."

Lashing Tail snorted. "We've checked everywhere," she hissed. "The sea, the forest, even the valley and the tundra."

Sun's Tooth frowned.

"What if she's not on our territory anymore?" The thought of her hatchling lost—and out at sea, no less!—was devastating. Lurkers were well known for devouring just about anything, from humans to seals and even other dragons. A helpless dragon they did not recognize was, to them, as easy a meal as a brown bear taking a brief swim. Sea Blankets were very much the same.

The other dragon settled into the icy nest, pressing his body to his mate's, nuzzling her head and broadening his frills so that the thin tips mingled with hers. "We'll find her, Lash."


	3. My Name is Iona

I lay in bed, watching the fire blaze and crackle about in a pit placed in the middle of the floor. As the days got colder, the fire would get bigger. Summer was coming to an end on Berk, and Winter was pushing its way in. So far, everything was tolerable: people and dragons buzzed about, and cattle grazed without a care in the world, enjoying the last days of warmth and breezy winds.

But as soon as Winter reached out with a hand, everything would change for a while. Swollen gray clouds would cover the sky for days on end. Howling winds would race through the village and bite anyone who was unfortunate enough to be outside. The whole Isle would be caked with snow and ice.

Someone ascended the stairs. Grandma entered my room, her green eyes warm and loving. She wore clothing made from yak skin. "Good morning, Iona," she said, smiling.

I sat up and smiled back. "Good morning, Grandma."

"The last of breakfast is being served in the Great Hall. Come on."

Outside, Grandma's Stormcutter, Cloudjumper, greeted us with a low rumble, blinking one of his eyes. He leaned down and purred when we stroked his head. When we continued onwards to the Hall, Grandma sighed. "It's been a while since we flew together. I'll take him out later."

The Great Hall was filled with Vikings and dragons alike. The former were busy getting their meals while the scaly beasts were just lazing about—well, the Terrible Terrors were tricking the men and women out of their meat. They skittered and flew about, squeaking and chirping loudly and fought over the pieces of meat.

Today's breakfast was mutton.

Halfway through my meal, a little orange Terror trotted up to me, eyeing the lump of tender mutton. I tore off a strip of meat and gave it to the little dragon; with a trill of triumph, it grasped the mutton in its mouth and galloped away—almost immediately others chased after it.

Grandma let out a little laugh. "Interesting little dragons aren't they?" she hummed, pausing to eat a tender, bite-sized chunk of meat. "Always vying for food."

It was such a beautiful day outside. The sky was clear and the sun was beating down on the Isle. A nice, cool breeze tugged at the land; I pulled a lock of my red-brown hair behind my ear. Dragons dotted the sky just as the Vikings moved about in the village. Above me was shouting—a pair of friends on their dragons was challenging one another to a race. Below, Vikings were sharing gossip, offering dragon training tips, or enjoying one another's company. Stretching to the horizon was the sparkling sea.

"Such a lovely day, isn't it?" Grandma asked, stretching and sighing contently. Her russet hair, usually in three braids, was tied in a single fat braid. "A perfect day for flying!"

A signature dragon's roar sounded behind us. "It sure is!"

Grandma and I turned around to see the Alpha, Toothless, and my dad, the Chief of Berk, gliding towards us. I couldn't help my sense of pride for my bloodline—my dad had befriended a Dragon and changed Berk for the better, my mother assisted my father in cataloging Dragons, my grandma had _lived_ with Dragons for twenty years and learned their ways… Who else could claim that much? Well, other than my friends of course!

Dad dismounted when Toothless dropped to the ground. I ran up to greet him, trapping him in a hug. "Dad!"

He hugged back and kissed my forehead. "Iona! How's my daughter today?"

"I'm good!" After hugging Dad I turned to Toothless. He warbled and dropped low, his eyes large and he stared at me. "Hey, Toofless!" I said, using the nickname he'd grown so used to hearing in my younger years.

The Alpha dragon lunged forward to lick my face. I struggled playfully underneath him as Dad and Grandma talked.

Dad turned to me. "Iona, it's nearly time for dragon training."

I groaned, gently pushing the Night Fury aside. "But I know everything there is to know! Classes, Dragons, Dragon abilities…" I sat up. "Can't I just miss a day?"

The Chief of Berk frowned. "I can't let you do that, and you know it."

Grandma added, "And they may have something new today. You never know."

I let out a long sigh. "Well, maybe my friends will be there."

And they were. In a class of about fifteen teenagers, my friends and I accounted for five of them. We stood next to one another, answering a few of the questions our teacher, Fishlegs, threw out. So far, we were drilled with questions about the Dragon classes, asked to name a Dragon to its class and list the characteristics of a certain class.

"You know," grunted a hoarse voice, "I was sooo close to skipping class today." Borghild. Daughter of Tuffnut and Morda. She was leaning awkwardly towards me, her expression that of dramatic boredom. Her face seemed to switch between two expressions daily: disinterest or excitement.

Countered a lighter voice, "I had to drag her here." It was Kari, daughter of Ruffnut and Eret, Son of Eret. Her dark hair was tied in a loose braid, its color in sharp contrast with Borghild's. We liked to refer to Kari as "Borghild's Keeper," as she kept her wilder cousin in line. Kari stood to Borghild's right.

I allowed myself a small smile. "Don't worry, Borghild. I wanted to skip, too."

Kari let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head while Borghild grinned.

Someone snorted to my right. "That makes three of us." The brawn of the group, Haldor stood proud and tall. His arms were large with muscle—he _was_ Snotlout's son! "I already know this stuff! I could learn more from a sheep!"

There was a gasp. "Haldor!" Olin cried, his expression that one of horror. "Surely you've learned _something_ today, right?" The son of Fishlegs and Alvida, Olin was what one would call an "avid learner." But we couldn't blame him for his superior knowledge of the Dragons of Berk—his father was the one who catalogued them with my dad, and Olin had access to the books every day.

"Oh yes," grunted Haldor, facing Olin. "I learned that, when my gut tells me to skip class, I should do it."

"So," continued Olin, "are Kari and I the only ones committed to the Dragon Academy?"

Replied Kari, "It seems so."

Class let out not long later. Indeed, we should have skipped.


	4. Winter is Here

My friends and I patrolled the village, admiring dragons and annoying Vikings. After an hour's worth of making rounds in the village we all knew so well, we settled in the Great Hall. Haldor boasted of how he'd take a Monstrous Nightmare as his own dragon, trying to follow his father's footsteps. "I'll name him Sharpclaw!" he declared loudly, lifting his chin and puffing out his chest.

"Sharpclaw?" Borghild grunted, clearly bored and unimpressed. "Isn't there a better name you can give him? Like, Beasthunter, or maybe Quickkiller?"

"I don't think a Nightmare needs so brutal a name," Kari commented, sweeping some of her dark hair behind her ear. She faced Haldor, who was giving her cousin a thoughtful look. "Sharpclaw is just fine, Haldor."

"Beasthunter sounds good, though." He clasped his hands together, a smile lighting his face. "So does Jetfire. Ooh, _especially_ Jetfire."

I said, "I admit, that's a good name for a Nightmare."

Olin shook his head. "I'd prefer a Snafflefang. I don't know what I'd name it. We'll see when we get there."

"It'd be cool to get a Night Fury," Borghild announced. "We could dive bomb everything!" At our exasperated expressions, she sighed. "A Gronckle would be nice, though. Destructor." She slowly waved her hands in an arc, her eyes distant.

Kari went next. "Deadly Nadder. They're beautiful dragons. Like me."

I sighed. "We'll see. I'm leaning towards the Nightmare, too."

A week later, a storm tore through Berk, bringing with it snow, howling winds, and horrid temperatures. I spent most of my time in the house as my family advised. Sometimes Toothless would join me, curling around my body as I lay at his side, my blanket clutched in my hands.

And this was just Winter. Things get real when _Devastating_ Winter hits. Occasionally it would get so bad that we—the tribe, the animals, and the dragons—would be forced to hide in the Great Hall and in the stables for shelter. Dad once told me of a time when the animals were scared of the dragons; some of them fled into the forest, and he and his friends were forced to search for them. In the end, the animals overcame their fear, and the dragons sheltered their riders—and the livestock—from the storm.

The house groaned every now and again as the wind beat against it. Frequent wisps of frigid air blew into my room from the door. My only sources of warmth were the fire, which my family added to three times a day, and my thin blanket.

I stared into the ever-changing blob of orange and yellow. Those colors bounced off everything in my darkened room, even reaching as high as the ceiling. Well, pale blue, almost gray light seeped into my room as well, but it outlined the door.

Dad entered my room, the stairs creaking under his weight. He smiled at me and turned to the fire. "Warm in here, isn't it?" he hummed sarcastically. The Chief's Cape, a large, brown furry cape passed down from father to son, billowed behind his shoulders. Dad looked scary, intimidating.

"It's like Winter doesn't exist!"

He let out a small laugh before coming to sit at my side. "How are you?" he asked, stroking my head. His bronze hair was itself like a fire as the light bounced around, illuminating each strand with unnatural clarity.

"Cold. And warm." I wrapped the covers around me.

"Do you need me to get more firewood?"

"I—no, I'm fine."

Dad frowned. "Are you sure, Iona? I don't want you to get sick. Your mother would kill me, for one," he added with a small smile.

I giggled. "But you're the Chief!"

"And she's the wife of the Chief. A rather good and well-respected one at that! And if she hit me, the whole tribe would assume I deserved it."

"Mom always said that she keeps you in check," I blurted.

Dad's smile widened. "I keep her in check, too," he hummed.

I blinked. "Really? How?" Mom wasn't the type to back down easily. She was a fighter.

"Ah, by flying with her," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "I know a lot of tricks she doesn't. She wouldn't try them."

I tilted my head, confused. "Ok. When I get a dragon, can you teach me some of those tricks?"

He grunted. "I don't know..." Dad leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine. "I love you, Iona."

"I love you too." After that, he left me for the night.

A few days later, when the minor storm passed, I was allowed to play. When I set foot outside, the scenery that greeted me was no less than what I expected. The snow, sparkling while in the cold, late afternoon sun, was up to my calves—thankfully, Mom had me wear snow boots made of yak skin—and was piled high over each building. I stepped down into the village and turned around. In the distance, I could see the large rock pillars stretching up into the sky, also blanketed with snow.

The lively growls and grunts of Dragons rang in the air. Dragons were immune to the cold, I remembered with a touch of envy. They could go barreling through a snowdrift and they wouldn't even shiver.

Borghild's voice sounded in the distance as a crisp, refreshing breeze blew past me. "Iona! Hey, Iona!"

I turned. Borghild raced towards me, Kari tagging along. "Borghild, Kari!" My legs carried me towards them.

The elder cousin hugged me, her mud-brown hair blowing in the gentle wind. I gave Borghild the same treatment, her own pale gold hair mingling with my braids.

"You've been cooped up in the house like sheep?" Kari asked, her voice soft.

"Yeah," I replied. "My family's protective of me."

"Of course," Borghild grunted. "You are the heiress to the tribe. We'd be screwed if you died from the cold!" She added with a sly smile, "And Astrid would go into a rage."

I pushed her. "That's enough." She let out a throaty laugh. "C'mon. Let's find the others." After searching the village for nearly an hour, we found Haldor with his father and Olin near the Dragon stable, tending to a young Deadly Nadder. "Good, now that we're all together…"

Haldor sneered. "What now?"

"I'm thinking." I looked out towards the giant rock pillars. "You want to walk in the forest?"

Haldor narrowed his eyes. "The _forest?"_

I turned to him and hissed, "Well, what do you want to do?"

His muscles rippled as he shrugged nonchalantly. "Sounds like a good idea." He led the way to the outskirts of the village, making a show of exaggerating the swings of his arms. The rest of us followed, rolling our eyes.

I elbowed Kari and whispered, "Dad says that Snotlout was worse in his youth, but I personally believe Haldor could top his father."

She smiled with amusement. "My dad says that he annoyed my mom when they were young. Something about love, I think."

"Auntie even buried him for a few hours," Borghild added with a smirk. She lifted her head so that her chin was pointing upwards, proud of what her aunt did.

We traveled in silence, save for the crunch of our feet in the snow, the calls of the Dragons, and the Vikings shuffling about, going on with their day. The trees marking the beginnings of the forest loomed in the distance, packed with snow, their trunks dark with moisture.

A dark shadow passed over us. Stormfly and Mom blocked the path leading us to the forest—we could easily pass her, but not even Borghild would dare disrespect the wife of the Chief that blatantly. Mom stepped off the Nadder's back. "And where are you going?"

Haldor bowed respectfully. "We just wanted to go to the forest."

Mom rolled her eyes at his show of submission. "The forest? Why would you want to go there? Did you suddenly happen to forget about the storm that just passed?"

"It was Iona's idea," Borghild blurted. I spared her a sideways glare. Borghild was never one to keep secrets.

Before Mom could speak, Kari explained, "We just wanted some time away from the village. We had to stay inside for days because of that storm."

"Things got boring," added her cousin.

Mom placed a hand on her hip and eyed us. "Well, you've got me there. But it's Winter, and I don't want you roaming around—storms come without notice these years. Have you thought about your dragons yet?" she added.

"Monstrous Nightmare!" Haldor blurted. "Jetfire the Monstrous Nightmare! Has a nice ring, doesn't it?"

Mom nodded, clearly impressed with the name. "Very appropriate. What about the rest of you?"

"Destructor the Gronckle!" announced Borghild, earning another eye roll from Mom.

"A Snafflefang." As if it were an omen, one flew right over us. It was quick—a blur really—but I could tell that it was a creamy color with yellow spots. Olin, almost as if he were in a trance, watched it leave. He let out a cry. "Ah! Epiphany! I shall name mine Blazer!"

Mom smiled. "Kari? Iona?"

"I'd take a Nadder."

I hesitated. "Well, a Monstrous Nightmare sounds good…" A sudden gust clawed at our clothes. Out to sea, over the horizon, dark clouds were coming our way. Devastating Winter was coming.

Mom mounted Stormfly. "Go home, all of you!" she demanded, her voice level. With a cry, the Deadly Nadder took off, her spiny tail lashing behind her.

Haldor turned to the sea. "Here we go," he huffed, cracking his neck. He looked like he was readying himself for a race. "The big one."

"We need to go home, like Mom said," I repeated. "Come on." I led the way back, noticing that the temperature had lowered. Even in the heavy yak skin my mom had me wear, my body was beginning to host a burn. I heard something clicking behind me; I turned and saw that Borghild's teeth were chattering so fast that her jaw was vibrating. That's when I noticed that she'd decided to brave the cold season. It was very much like her—being stubborn. Kari was talking to her, but her words were drowned out from the wind battering my ears. Olin was shivering, his arms wrapped around his chest, trying his best to ignore the cold. Haldor, on the other hand, was walking as if it was a mild windy day—but the tightness of his fists and his pursed lips betrayed his aversion to the biting wind.

Once we reached the path leading to my home, my friends went their separate ways, too cold to even whisper goodbye.


	5. The Dragon

The room was colder than before, thanks to the blizzard raging outside. The winds howled and roared, battering my house. Grandma checked up on me every few hours, often putting logs into the fire. This time she found me huddled only feet away from the golden flames, scavenging whatever warmth I could get without burning myself.

She sat down next to me. "Your little exploration was cut short yesterday, right?"

I nodded. "Mom told you?"

"I was looking for you."

"You were?"

"I thought, maybe, we could go fishing."

I felt guilt wash over me. "Sorry."

Grandma chuckled. "It's quite all right. I understand wanting to spend time with friends after being locked up for days."

It was silent for a while. Well, if one call the banging door, the howling winds, and the crackling fire "silence."

I said, "Grandma, how did you get into the Dragon Den? What was it like, living with Dragons? It sounds really nice."

Her face lit up, her eyes blank as she remembered her life in the past. "Oh, it was." She closed her eyes, her expression saddening. "There was a raid that night. Long ago, Dragons would raid Berk for the cattle. We Vikings, uneducated about the Dragons at the time, would put our lives on the line to get them back. I ran out of the house, just in time to stop a man from dealing the killing blow to a Nadder."

"Was he going to chop its head off?" I don't know why I asked that. I've heard plenty of stories about how Vikings would behead dragons and mount the heads on spears from some of the elders, few of whom were apparently still upset over the drastic change in lifestyle.

Grandma nodded slowly. "They thought nothing of it. I managed to save a few more dragons, but then I heard the crash of wood. I turned to see a massive, four-winged dragon enter my house. Your father was just a babe when it happened. I feared for his life." She paused for a few seconds, looking around. "But when I got there, Cloudjumper was over Hiccup's cradle, staring into it, letting my boy hold his claw. He was so gentle, so tender, and I realized that everything I believed was true. Dragons are like us. We are all the same creature; we just have different bodies.

"But then Stoick burst in. He swung at Cloudjumper with his axe, but I blocked him and begged him to listen to me. Cloudjumper then grabbed me with his talons and spirited me away to the Sanctuary." She smiled. "The Den was such a wonderful place. It was paradise. The King built it."

"The Alpha? But didn't Drago use him to try to destroy Berk?"

Valka shook her head. "No, the Alpha was an entirely different Bewilderbeast. He was abused and broken by that madman, had a blind loyalty to him. The King was kinder, more just. Even the baby Scuttleclaws could dance on his head." She paused.

"What's it like to fly?"

"At first, it was terrifying. I hung on to Cloudjumper's back spines for dear life. I was scared that I would fall. In fact," she added with a chuckle, "the first few times I did. But Cloudjumper caught me, and I'm grateful to him for that. But as the days passed, I grew to love it. We began to bond." Grandma nudged me. "You know how some Vikings have to shout commands?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I hear people telling their Dragons to go left or to go right."

"Hm. Cloudjumper knows instinctively what I want him to do."

I blinked up at her. "He does? Even when you fly?"

"Mm-hm, even when we fly." Grandma stared into the fire for a few seconds. "Well, I've kept you up for long enough." She swept some of my auburn hair to the side, kissing my forehead. As I crawled into bed, she tended to the fire, shifting some crumbling logs around. The fire popped and cracked.

"Goodnight, Iona." And she left.

"Hiccup put you all to work, didn't he?" Mom observed us as we made ourselves useful in Mulch and Bucket's farm, Fishlegs by her side. We—Borghild and Haldor, mainly—had been causing trouble, scaring the sheep and the chickens. We were smart enough not to bother the yaks. Mulch and Bucket, worried due to all the noise, came out and scolded us. Dad happened to be passing by and sentenced us to farm duty, doing whatever it was the two told us to. As my mother and her friend watched us with amused—and disappointed—eyes, shame and guilt washed over me.

_I'm the daughter of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III and Astrid Hofferson,_ I scolded myself, my ears burning with shame. Mulch had me in the chicken coop with Borghild, collecting eggs. We were told that, if there were multiple eggs, we had to leave one or two behind. _I am the heiress to the Hairy Hooligans. I shouldn't be doing such childish things!_ "Yeah, it was _childish_."

Borghild scoffed loudly, startling a gold-feathered hen before her. "It was obvious you enjoyed it. You're just as guilty as me!"

I frowned. "I shouldn't be." I gently shooed a red hen aside despite her protests, and peered into the nest. Three white eggs lay there. I took two, placing them in the basket Bucket had given me. There were four more nests to check, at least four more eggs to take.

Mom let out a laugh. Stormfly warbled behind her. "I hope you all learned your lessons."

I could hear Haldor muttering angrily to himself as he dumped feed into the sheep pens. He and Olin were in charge of the bleating animals, catering to them as Mulch demanded. Kari had to clean the stalls. As soon as Borghild and I finish, we are to help her.

The beefy Vikings appeared from the house on the hill. They strolled our way, nodding politely to Mom and Fishlegs. They talked quietly, but I imagined Mulch complaining to Mom about us.

Borghild and I finished in the chicken coop and entered the stables, setting aside the two baskets on a table pressed up against a wall. We gripped shovels and began to scoop the muck from the pens.

There were twenty.

"Good, now that you're all done," Mom started when we finished, "I was thinking I could take you to pick out your dragons today." She climbed aboard Stormfly's back and settled into the saddle. "Meet me at the stables." And they took off.

Haldor pumped a fist into the air. "Yes! Jetfire, here I come!"

.:*+*:.

Everyone had gotten the dragons they wanted. Haldor chose—well, was chosen by—a blue Monstrous Nightmare. It butted him from behind, growling and hissing. Snotlout laughed and commented on how it reminded him of Hookfang and himself when they were younger. Jetfire was young, not as tall as the scarlet-scaled Hookfang, but much taller than his rider.

Kari held out her hand towards a purple Deadly Nadder. It nosed her, accepting her as its—his—rider. She named him Sunwing, stating that the yellow spots on his wings reminded her of the sun. But I think it was just her vanity talking—I'm sure Kari just wanted a pretty dragon with a prettier name. Her parents, Ruffnut and Eret, praised her.

As Olin stated, he bonded with a Snafflefang of similar coloring to Sunwing, only he was more vibrant. Blazer—Olin was true to his word—had pretty green speckles all over his body. Fishlegs and Alvida applauded their son's choice.

I, however, excused myself from picking out a dragon, claiming that I wanted to learn more about them to make sure I had the right companion. Borghild made the same excuse, altering it but meaning the same thing. I'm sure she was taking my lead because I saw her watching me. Our parents were confused—especially Borghild's—but they accepted our choices.

Now I found myself in the snow-packed forest, going where my legs took me. Kari, Haldor, and Olin were taking lessons from Fishlegs and Dad while Gobber and his apprentices secured saddles for them. Despite not having a dragon, Borghild was with them. I slipped away, heading towards Ravenpoint; I could see the twin peaks in the distance.

Snow crunched under my feet. Stubborn leaves held on to their trees, trembling as a crisp wind cut through the branches. I trudged through the forest mindlessly, over boulders and under tree trunks and firm branches, until I was in a clearing—the one I liked to visit when I wanted time to myself. Off to the side I could see another boulder. It wasn't one I recognized.

_It's just a pile of snow that fell from the trees._ But the nearest tree was more than twenty feet away. _Alright, maybe the wind blew up some snow into a pile._ I crouched and inched over, my heart racing.

_What if it's some kind of beast? Like, an unusually large boar?_

The "boulder" was oddly shaped, with a wide middle but narrow ends. Lining one of the ends were multiple points were the snow seemed to have fallen off. The opposite end had those same points, only they were all located in one area, though evenly spaced out. As I crept closer, I noticed something odd—my own reflection. _What kind of boulder is reflective?_ When I was close enough, I reached out, smoothing some of the snow away. My breath hitched. It wasn't a boulder.

I was staring at smooth, silver scales.

The beast flared its frills—those points were the ends—and lifted its long neck, turning to study me with moon-silver eyes, making noises I've never heard a dragon make. I studied it in turn.

The dragon was like a mix of other dragons. It had a head similar to that of a Night Fury, only it didn't have any head spikes or nubs. No, at the back of its head, directly behind the eyes, were two rounded, flat-looking plates. Behind those plates were many sets of frills. They reminded me of Cloudjumper's, only they had oval ends. Also, Cloudjumper only had three sets—this dragon had at least five, from what I could see! Because of the snow, I couldn't see the rest of its reflective body.

I marveled at the beast's scales. I've never heard of a dragon with scales so shiny and reflective that they were practically invisible! Not only could I see myself clearly, but the forest behind me, and even the sky as well! The dark purple frills could easily be mistaken for a boulder or even bushes. Only the bright eyes would give its position away—when the person was close enough!

"H…hello," I whispered.

The dragon snorted, flaring its crown of frills. The movement rippled down its neck and to its shoulders. I heard rustling to my left and I saw that the dragon had more frills on its tail tip. They were rippling too.

The dragon was giving off a feminine air. It felt disrespectful to call her _it_.

I sat on the ground, trying my best to ignore the chills rising from my hind. She watched me, her eyes slightly wider and pupils rounder.

_If I'd known I meet a new dragon I'd have brought my sketchbook!_ My body was shivering from excitement. _I'm going to document a new dragon! Class, name, everything!_


	6. New Territory

This small girl watched her with interest. The Mirrorscale could feel her body trembling through the tips of her frills, but she did not smell of fear. No, _excitement_ oozed from her, sharp and smooth. The little one did not squeak anything other than that single word, but it was obvious she was eager to start some type of interaction.

Not long later the girl stood and slowly, warily, circled the Dragon's body. Curiosity got the better of her; she reached out hesitantly and let her smooth, scale-less paw brush against the frills, only jerking it back when the Dragon grunted and pulled away.

After a few more hours of carefully establishing boundaries with the Dragon, the girl left. "I'll be back," she promised.

And she was right; the human returned the next day, this time with something in hand. She had a bundle of thin-looking materials in her hand, as well as a black-tipped twig. The girl sat and began moving the twig around on the material, occasionally peeping at the Dragon.

A soft, rolling rumble vibrated in the Dragon's throat, but she let the clawless being do as she wanted. The scratches of the twig against the sheets were soothing; the Mirrorscale lay down on the snow, using the crispy cold of the soft snow to soothe her.

The sharp-scented Viking boy was like the girl—always fiddling with twigs and bundles.

She wondered idly if they would've made great friends.

"There."

Purring, the Dragon blinked at her. She blinked back and then cast her eyes down at the bundle.

"You…name. How about…Waterscale? No…Darkcrown. Yeah…sounds good."

She tilted her head with interest. The Mirrorscale couldn't understand everything the girl said—many words were familiar, but the rest were pronounced in ways she hadn't heard before.

"I'm Iona…way."

Darkcrown hummed, shifting her tail, moving snow away into a pile. She broadened her frills, feeling for vibrations in the air. The human's body was shivering with energy. Darkcrown ignored her, focusing on trying to find prey.

There were so many trees! Vibrations of birds and little animals bounced off the trunks of the trees and onto the flat sensors at the tips of her frills, giving the illusion that large animals were nearby. Oh well; at least the vibrations gave her a sound map of the immediate area. Darkcrown licked her lips impatiently.

"Ah! A long…tongue." The scratching started again, only to stop some time later. "Look!" Iona flipped the bundle around, revealing images similar to that of Mirrorscales. One image had its crown of frills spread, another was exposing its long tongue, the last simply gazing out in the distance. Darkcrown clicked curiously, stretching out her neck to get a better look.

"See? It's you!"

Soft clicking was Darkcrown's reply.

Iona eyed Darkcrown thoughtfully. "I…add that. I've…a Dragon make…before; they…just growl, hiss, and purr."

Snow crunched as the Dragon lay down once more, her nostrils flaring as she exhaled, laying her frills flat on her neck and tail with boredom. She shifted impatiently, trying her best to ignore the terrible burning that encased her body.

"Well," sighed the girl a few moments later, standing, "I've…go. See you later, Darkcrown."

She hummed in farewell.

After Iona was gone, Darkcrown attempted to stand, ignoring the ache of her body and the stinging pain in her right shoulder. With labored breaths, the lengthy Dragon began to trudge in the opposite direction that the human came from, hoping that her shoulder would get better with time. She hauled herself out of the clearing and through the forest, stopping every now and again to catch her breath. A low moan escaped her throat, lined with frustration.

And she quickly snapped her teeth shut. What if something was nearby? Had she alerted prey to her presence?

She pricked her frills, feeling for vibrations, staying completely still. The air was pulsating with the wing beats and shrill cries of startled birds, causing Darkcrown's frill tips to flutter. She concentrated harder, twisting her neck as much she could to give her a better range.

There was something…. Vibrations hit the sensors in the direction she was going, alerting her to something just a fair walk away. There were a few of them at least, and they were walking slowly. A snort of effort sounded from Darkcrown as she set off to follow the vibrations.

They were in a glade—small, ox-like creatures with long, curling tusks protruding from their mouths. They shuffled in the snow, making sharp, guttural noises. Darkcrown marveled the stout animals…and then bared her teeth as the wind sailed her way, bringing with it the musk of those creatures. What if they tasted like they smelled? No, they shouldn't; oxen _certainly_ didn't smell like flowers, but they tasted great.

The Dragon crouched low in the bare bushes, just as her dam had taught her. Mirrorscales mostly hunted from the sky, swooping down and carrying their prey away to the mountains. When they did hunt on land, they imitated the short-tailed snow cats the mountain Tribe sometimes kept as pets: they stalked their prey, watching from a distance, before coming in for the kill. Sometimes their prey mistook the Dragon for members of its kind and edged closer, thanks to their scales. It made hunting pleasantly easy. Some Mirrorscales in her flock actually preferred ground-hunting.

The closest ox-animal snorted, turning her way. It flicked its tail with confusion. Darkcrown froze, unwilling to startle the beast. Not even her frill twitched.

It hesitated, pawing the ground; and with a grunt, it crept closer. Other members of its herd followed behind slowly.

Darkcrown refused to even blink, her eyes dim in the shadows, trained directly on her oncoming prey.

Moments passed slowly. By the time some of the tusked animals were before her, the young Mirrorscale felt as if she'd been crouching for nearly a day!

The small ox snorted right onto her head, its flat nose less than a claw-length away. She struck.

Squeals of terror and surprise vibrated in the air; snow was kicked up as the small ox-animals fled for their lives. The scent of fear and blood was strong and enticing. Darkcrown had her prey by the muzzle, her spear-like teeth penetrating skin and pushing through bone. The ox-animal thrashed and bucked underneath her.

The Dragon lashed her tail, generating an electric current through her body. Her eyes gained a faint silver glow. Darkcrown loosened her grip on the little animal's muzzle—and bit down again, releasing the current. With a sharp squeal, the animal jerked and went limp. It wouldn't be getting up again.

The animal was small—barely a meal. Darkcrown could see the herd bolting away and felt their cries of terror. She'd need to kill another ox-animal. The Mirrorscale abandoned the downed creature to give chase, grunting with effort due to the pain.

Her eyes picked out a beast slightly smaller but healthy. Tired and unwilling to go through another fight, Darkcrown readied another current. When she was within reach, she lashed out and bit down on its hind; like the first, this one dropped like a stone in water. She hauled it back to the glade and ate it quickly, stripping it to bones. Darkcrown ate the next one more slowly, cleaning her muzzle in the snow when she finished.

Full, the young wyvern snagged a few bones and dragged herself back to the clearing where she met the little human. There, she scattered the bones around her, creating a makeshift nest, and lay down, waiting for the little one to return.


	7. Observing

One week later, after a mild storm, I returned to my Dragon. The clearing was blanketed in fresh snow, flawed with deep trails. Darkcrown was facing me, her crown flared, her eyes wide. Even from this distance, I could see her large, rounded pupils. Her seamless scales recreated the image of the clearing; all I could truly make out of her were her frills and eyes. Another giveaway was my reflection on her long neck, not to mention the trail of displaced and crunched snow.

"Nice to see you too." I noticed that she was facing my direction before I even entered the clearing. Maybe she had a strong sense of smell? Do her frills have something to do with it?

I cleared away some snow and sat on the hard ground before her, flipping to the page with the Dragon information.

**Name: Darkcrown**

**Species: Waterscale**

**Class: Mystery**

**Eel Test:**

**Fire Type:**

**Special Abilities: Reflective scales hide her in plain sight;**

**Notes: Makes clicking noises;**

"I need to train you."

Darkcrown tilted her head.

"Finding out how is the question." There were many different ways to train Dragons. With Deadly Nadders, you had to smooth their tail spikes. For Monstrous Nightmares, you had to treat them with respect—or just hold their horns to the ground. They seem to love that. Maybe Darkcrown was a Strike class Dragon—nearly impossible to train?

…Or maybe she couldn't be trained?

I shook my head, revising my notes.

**Class: Strike?**

"Okay. Follow me." I led her towards a once-grassy field where I had laid out fish and a certain black-and-yellow eel…and I couldn't help but notice how she seemed pained as we walked. When we reached the field, I stopped and faced the large Dragon. She blinked at me, frills pressed against her neck.

"There's fish hidden in the snow up there," I stated.

Her eyes widened and she snorted. Darkcrown began to fidget, pushing forward. I moved out of her way, taking out my book as the Dragon sifted the dry snow, flipping fish into her mouth gleefully. I waited tensely for a few minutes; my heart began pounding as soon as Darkcrown tossed the eel. It landed on her head—she refused to open her mouth. The Dragon shook off the eel and glared at it. Then, after a few seconds, she tossed it into the air once more, her eyes taking on a faint glow.

I leaned forward, sucking in my lower lip and biting down.

A silver bolt of lightning, small but quick, burst from her mouth, incinerating the eel upon impact with a _crack_. With a hissing, wet _pop,_ smoldering chunks of burnt eel fell into the snow, disappearing from view.

**Fire Type: Lightning**

**Eel Test: Does not seem to like eels**

**Notes: Makes clicking noises; Eyes will glow when about to shoot lightning;**

The only other Dragon to spit lightning was the Skrill. Maybe—though unlikely—they were distantly related?

Darkcrown continued to eat, the wet slaps of slimy scales against dry scales faint in the air. I stared down at my notes. Now that I have her fire type, what was her shot limit? Could she charge up her attacks, like Toothless? Maybe she could do something similar to Monstrous Nightmares—lightning bolts lining her body instead of fire? She could possibly track scents from afar like Skullcrusher.

A gust of hot wind brushed my face. I looked up, seeing my surprised expression reflected on Darkcrown's head. I didn't hear her approach me. How long had I zoned out?

I was able to fully admire her size. Her own head was larger than my head and chest! If Darkcrown was _this_ large, despite being young—well, I assumed she was young—then how big were adults? Was she a fabled colossal Dragon? "Hey."

She hummed. Darkcrown lay down, watching me with wide, friendly eyes. Every now and again parts of her crown would twitch and flutter. I guess she could sense things through it?

**Special Abilities: Reflective scales hide her in plain sight; Seems to be able to sense creatures through her frills;**

"Come on. Let's go back to the clearing."

.:*+*:.

The Great Hall was alive with noise. Terrible Terrors would regularly fly overhead and gallop below, squeaking and chirping at one another. Vikings would murmur to one another in groups; then they would burst out in laughter when a good joke was told. On the far side of the Hall, I could see Haldor and Jetfire, and Snotlout and Hookfang. Borghild was with her parents, tearing into a chicken breast. Her cousin, sitting between Tuffnut and Halla, was catering to Sunwing, who ate a leg contently. Barf and Belch sat in between the two families, each head looming over its rider.

My family and I were off to the left, yet staying near the twin doors. Mom was picking at a bare chicken breastbone, done with lunch but unwilling to leave. Stormfly was to her right, settled on the ground. Toothless was with her. Dad was spinning a tale of an island he found years back, long before I was born, his hands waving wildly.

I tore off some meat from a chicken thigh. Over the last few weeks, I'd go to Dragon training—I kept refusing a Dragon for reasons unclear to everyone else—and sometimes go straight to Darkcrown. Every time I came home, I made sure to hide my little notebook from everyone else. I didn't want to reveal Darkcrown just yet…everyone would flock to see her, and I'm not sure if she could handle crowds.

I ate my lunch thoughtfully.

What if I gave Darkcrown chicken? Would something special happen? Mom once told me that Stormfly flew so fast that she rivaled Toothless when she was given chicken—and that she didn't seem happy when she was switched back to fish.

I pressed the plate of chicken close to me, suddenly aware of all the Terrors in the Hall. "I'm going to eat in my room."

They all turned towards me, eyes wide.

"Why?" Dad asked.

"I…just want some time to think. It's so loud in here." On cue, the roars of laughter exploded in the Great Hall. "I'll bring the plate back when I'm done, I promise!"

My parents hesitated; Grandma smiled. "She is right. I can barely hear myself think, what with all this laughter!"

Dad nodded. "Right. Sure, Iona."

I took my plate and left, but not before helping myself to another thigh and leg. I retreated through the heavy wooden doors.

The sky was dark with a disappearing blue line over the horizon. The clouds were shining pale orange, catching the last of the day's light. A gentle, though crisp, gust of wind rushed through the village. I stood outside the Great Hall, a ways from the door, admiring the scene. Below the hill was Berk in all its glory.

I ran into my room and retrieved a leather sack; after I dumped in the uneaten chicken, I went outside and hid the sack in the snow, taking a good look at my surroundings to burn the area into my mind. As promised, I returned the plate.

As my family filed into the house to sleep, I was already in my room, my notebook secure and ready under my pillow. When I was ready, I went downstairs. My family was lounging around, taking off excess clothes and placing them on the furniture. We said our _good night_s and _I love you_s and went to bed.


	8. Snoggletog

**Sorry for the long wait! I typed and retyped the end of this chapter so much I just took a hiatus from the whole thing.**

**Enjoy this lazy chapter.**

Soon it would be Snoggletog!

Vikings were beginning to decorate the village with painted, old shields, and, most importantly, the signature tree. Helmets were left out by the children, eager for whatever treats Odin would leave. An air of excitement shrouded the Isle; Dragons and Vikings alike were livelier than ever, taking in the numerous, yearly decorations.

My family and I strolled through the village, our winged companions following faithfully behind us, admiring the change in both scenery and behavior. Dragons and Vikings expressed their greetings to their Alpha and Chief, who purred and nodded in return.

We stopped by Uncle Gobber's shop. He was busy making custom saddles, both for my friends and for other teenagers. Various metal instruments banged and clicked against one another as he prepared leather. His current apprentice, a tall, raven-haired teenager named Alfur, tended to the fire. Grump, being the lazy Dragon he was, was sleeping peacefully off to the side, his sides swelling and deflating steadily.

Dad knocked on a wooden pillar a few times as Toothless bounded in to greet his sleeping friend. He careened into Grump, who, startled, shot a fireball deep into the shop, hitting straight into the fire. Alfur scrambled away with a frightened cry.

"Eh? Toothless? This can only mean one thing—Hiccup!" Uncle Gobber scuttled from the back area. "And you brought the family too!" He exited his shop and hugged his chief; then he bowed politely to Mom and Grandma.

Grandma chuckled and bowed back. "How are you today, Gobber?"

"Ah, getting a few presents ready, that's what I'm doing," he replied with a nod. "This one right here," he gestured to a saddle similar in form to a chair and winked at me, "belongs to your cousin, Iona. Don't tell him!"

I smiled and hugged him. "I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise!"

"Good! Now," he said, returning to his work, "is there a reason you're here, Chief? And Alfur," he called, looking over his shoulder, "come back here and tend to the fire!"

Dad chuckled as the young adult picked his way back to the fireplace. "You don't have to be so formal with me, Gobber. I just wanted to drop by, that's all."

"Oh? Not drop off a little request?"

"Yeah, well…Iona hasn't picked out a Dragon yet."

"What!"

I winced. If only they knew…and what with Darkcrown's size, Uncle Gobber would be pushed to the limit. There wasn't really a place to sit on her—unless I wanted to be like Grandma and stand on her back or head. Or maybe I could settle on her back and use her frill tips to steady myself…but that sounded like it would be uncomfortable for her. From what I gathered, they were sensitive to sounds and movement.

"Well," my uncle was saying, "give her time. She may surprise you." He began to bang on some metal.

Mom smiled at me. "I'm sure she will."

We left Uncle Gobber so he could continue his work. After a while I broke away to hang with my friends. Haldor was bragging about how Jetfire was "shot the longest stream of fire into the sea"—but we all knew he liked to brag. He and Jetfire were brash and energetic; they fit one another. Same with Kari and Sunwing; they were vain. Olin and Blazer were similar yet…different. It was as if Blazer was Olin if he were a Dragon.

"Yo! Wanna fly?" Haldor crawled onto his Nightmare's neck, despite not having a saddle. He pulled me up with him.

"But we have no saddles!" Kari protested, helping Borghild onto Sunwing's back.

Jetfire launched himself into the air with a roar. The ground was a blur as it dipped away at an impossible speed. My heart was pounding, my mouth was dry, and my stomach dropped; I hung on to my cousin for dear life. Haldor laughed and whooped.

"Faster, Jetfire! Go higher!"

The blue-scaled Nightmare bucked as he beat his wings with renewed vigor, growling in response to his rider's commands. Behind us, Sunwing and Blazer cried out, trying to keep up.

Haldor turned, his black hair whipping in front of his face. His eyes were narrowed, a smile splitting his features. It was the very same face he made whenever it was time for the annual Dragon Races—whenever his dad passed by in a streak of scarlet scales. "You're all so slow!"

"We're not pushing our Dragons to the limit!" Olin retorted. We were all saddle-less, hanging desperately to our Dragons' necks as they cut through the air. The wind tugged at our clothes and hair, screaming in our ears. Around us the other Dragons roared and hissed. As we weaved though the stables and some of the hatchlings, now at least a month old, followed us out.

The next week, everyone was celebrating. People were handing out gifts: my family gave me paper and new pencils to draw with; my friends, save Borghild, received their saddles, which they showed off to their Dragons. Grandma later spent time with Cloudjumper in the skies. During that time, I was enjoying a meal of mutton with Mom and Dad—and Toothless and Stormfly—in the Great Hall. After that, I hung out with my friends and we went flying again, this time less rough.

When everyone had settled down I dug up the sack of frozen chicken and stole away into the forest to meet Darkcrown. This time she was near the western edge of our clearing, leaning against a large boulder—it _was_ a boulder—but her frills were relaxed. When she saw me, she began clicking, her crown rippling.

"You felt all that commotion, huh?" I sat before her and opened the sack, taking out a cold, hard leg of chicken. "It's Snoggletog, Darkcrown. We give presents to our friends and family." I held it out. "Here. This is your gift."

Darkcrown leaned forward and, after sniffing the meat, opened her mouth. I tossed the meat. She swallowed it whole. The large Dragon nosed the pouch and parted her jaws again. I took a moment to study her teeth: they were short yet sharp, and hooked backwards slightly. They kinda reminded me of Monstrous Nightmare claws.

Darkcrown huffed impatiently.

"Oh, sorry." I dumped the contents into her mouth. Bones crunched and cracked as she chewed. Then she swallowed and lay her head down. I began to talk about my days and she listened silently. "My friends have Dragons," I said. "Haldor—he's my cousin—he has a Monstrous Nightmare. Kari has a Deadly Nadder. Borghild—she's Kari's cousin—she has no one. Olin has a Snafflefang. And I have you."

She purred, her frills pressed to her neck and the tips fluttering.

"But they don't know that." I sighed. "We went flying, my friends and I."

The Waterscale blinked at me before turning her eyes to the sky. Then she looked away.

I frowned. "Can't you fly? I can tell your wings are large! You must be a great flier. Better than Jetfire, I bet."

Darkcrown let out a soft sigh, verging on a snort, and blinked up at me curiously.

"Oh. Well—" I looked away. "Let me tell you about my village then. My house—the Chief's house—rests on a hill, overlooking the whole village…" I outlined Berk's history, glossing over our horrid pre-dragonriding days. "Our ancestors were scared and just trying to protect their own," I told my Dragon when she leveled me a stare. "It all changed when my dad found the reason of the Dragons' constant stealing—they were scared of their Queen, who ate them when they didn't bring enough food back.

"My dad and Toothless defeated the Queen and the Dragons began to live on Berk. And then, years later, Drago and his Bewilderbeast started a war. Toothless fought the Alpha and caused one of his tusks to fall off. Toothless then became the alpha."

Darkcrown hummed.

After breezing through Berk's history, I sat in silence, trying to think about what I wanted to say. Darkcrown, noticing my silence, blinked and craned her neck towards me, humming and sniffing. I smiled and gently pushed her away. "I'm just thinking. Don't worry."

She snorted.

"I wish you could talk. That way you could tell me about your home. I wonder that the other dragons of your home look like. And your alpha dragon." I fell silent again and moved closer to my Dragon, leaning against her body—nestled underneath one of her large neck frills. We laid there in silence for a few hours.

I patted my Waterscale's neck. "I gotta go." As I slipped from her body, Darkcrown rumbled. When I turned, her head was right before me, eyes half-lidded. My body froze when she leaned forward, pressing her smooth, cold nose to mine.

She began to purr.


	9. Bonding

Over the next few weeks, I frequented the clearing, spending as much time as possible with my Dragon. Darkcrown started letting me ride her. She'd nudge me towards her back and allow me to steady myself by holding on to her frill tips. She wouldn't fly; I could feel a slight limp in her gait.

Once, Darkcrown was generous enough to let me stand to the side as she hunted one of the boar herds the village acknowledges occasionally. She stalked them, creeping against the wind, as I took notes in a large bush far away. The boars were completely oblivious to the Dragon's presence. When Darkcrown was close enough, hiding behind a few trees, I went still, believing that she was going to leap.

But instead she stood still as her prey came to her.

I watched with wide-eyed fascination as one boar shuffled her way, then another. And another. Then Darkcrown burst from the trees in a flurry of shining scales, glittering frills, and sparkling snow.

I lay on her smooth back as we simply dozed in the clearing, the bones of wild boars surrounding us. It was a very mild day: a gentle breeze, a cloudless sky, and a cool sun beaming down at us through the trees. We'd just come back from walking.

Recently I noticed something new about my Waterscale: her scent. No matter where we come from, Darkcrown always seemed to smell like…well, I don't know. It wasn't an unpleasant scent—far from that! It was…sweet. Spicy.

Like pine cones.

.:*+*:.

Darkcrown thought of Iona as a part of her flock. The human would visit her, walking away from her flock—or _family_, as the sharp-scented boy called it—and spend time with her. Darkcrown could feel her presence long before she could see her—sometimes she could smell her first, when the wind was right. The Mirrorscale always greeted her warmly, leaning down to let the little human caress her head.

As the Sun and Moon shifted in the sky, Darkcrown found herself yearning for Iona's presence, very much like she did the little boy of the western tribe. She would wait impatiently, fidgeting. Oftentimes Darkcrown would travel by foot, searching for whatever could hold her interest. Sometimes she hunted just to pass time.

Dragons who bonded with humans often spoke of this feeling—_life mate_. A Dragon who went too long without his or her life mate felt restless and incomplete; they would wander aimlessly through both the sky and the land, either waiting for their human to return or seeking them out.

When Iona visited Darkcrown on a fairly warm day, Darkcrown was thrilled. She flared her frills excitedly. The emptiness was gone, filled with a growing warmth that could melt snow and ice. Darkcrown lowered her head so that her eyes were level with Iona's.

They were a wonderful green color. They reminded the Mirrorscale of the Sunface, where the land would turn from white and blue to green with red, white, and pink speckles.


	10. Busted

My friends and I were gathered around a makeshift bonfire off to the side of the village, roasting fish and chicken over the moderately sized flames. Jetfire, Sunwing, and Blazer were behind us, snacking away at the baskets of fish we had brought with us. The early afternoon sun shined down at us, casting our shadows both into and away from the fire.

I rotated my stick, hosting a sturgeon, wanting to make sure it cooked evenly. My mind kept wandering back to Darkcrown, who awaited my presence in the clearing. Everyone was convinced that I had not picked out a companion simply because I was still searching for that "connection." If only they knew that my companion was a Dragon unlike any other on the Isle!

Haldor narrowed his eyes at me. "You look very happy," he said, "for someone who doesn't have a Dragon."

Across from him, Borghild sneered. "I don't have a Dragon either, bugbrain."

Haldor faced her. "Well, why not?"

She shrugged but didn't break eye contact.

Kari gave Haldor a pointed look. In turn, he frowned at her. "You both have plenty of time to search for your companion. Don't let us rush you." She turned her attention to the whole chicken mounted on a sturdy stick, flipping it over to inspect the cooking side. Noticing that it was a nice golden brown, Kari flipped it over.

"Yeah," Olin added, biting into his cooked salmon. "There are plenty of Dragons in the sky. You'll find some scaly body to connect to."

_I already have._ A smile tugged at my mouth. What would they think upon seeing Darkcrown?

We ate for a while, the silence broken by the Dragons playing—and snapping—at one another, and the natural sounds of the island. When the Dragons went through their brief moments of near-silence, we could hear the faint roar of the sea and the murmuring of the breeze.

As we ate, we threw the bones into the fire, watching and listening to it pop and hiss in the heat. Sunwing took an interest in this and hovered behind his rider, watching intently, bobbing his head from side to side and pricking his spiky crest. Jetfire was snapping at Blazer, who was creeping towards him, swiping playfully at his body, and jumping back just as toothy jaws lashed out at him.

The shadows had lengthened when we finished. We headed towards the village and parted ways. Snotlout and Hookfang passed overhead; Haldor mounted his blue Nighmare and took off after them. Kari and Sunwing proceeded towards the Academy. Olin and Blazer tailed them. Borghild headed off another way.

Free of my friends, I immediately went towards my secret Dragon. I made sure to stroll casually through the village first, to make myself look busy. People called out greetings that I returned happily.

Then I left.

Darkcrown was settled in her bone-strewn nest. She blinked at me and lowered her head as I neared. I hugged her. "I've missed you!"

She purred. And then her silver eyes angled behind me, her wide pupils narrowing to slits. A low sound rumbled in her throat. I turned, my eyes staring into the forest. _Maybe she caught wind of a wild boar._

There was movement in the bushes and my breath hitched. My heart dropped as Borghild emerged from them, a wicked smile on her face. I would rather have Haldor follow me—accompanied by his Dragon! _Of all people, it _had_ to be her!_

"I knew it!" she exclaimed. "You _are_ hiding something!" Snow crunched under her feet as she approached me. She slowed, wary, as Darkcrown shuffled. Borghild's eyes widened and her face turned from triumph to wonder. "What kind of Dragon is that?"

I refused to answer. "How did you know? How did you keep pace with me? I made sure no one could!"

Borghild's former expression returned. "The others may not suspect anything, but I do! I've noticed that you slip away into the forest after we stop hanging out. You leave for the forest a few times a month."

I crossed my arms. Borghild was observant, I'll give her that. "Then why didn't you confront me earlier? It's been months since I first met Darkcrown." The Dragon was nosing me, humming softly. Now she was more curious than protective. I could imagine her with her frills spread, trying to make sense of the situation.

Borghild blinked at my Dragon, taking a few hesitant steps closer. "Darkcrown, huh?" When the massive Dragon made no movement, Borghild edged closer until she was a few feet away from me. "He's practically invisible!"

Darkcrown craned her neck so that she was facing my friend. Borghild froze. After a few moments, she began to purr, blinking at my blond-haired friend. "What kind of Dragon is he?" Borghild asked again.

"I call _her_ the Waterscale, but it's just a placeholder," I admitted with a sigh. "I have notes about her in my sketchbook."

"Is that what you spent all that time doing? Getting notes?" Her sea-blue eyes narrowed.

"Wouldn't you?" I snapped. What did she expect me to do? Teach Darkcrown tricks? She only began to trust me recently!

She grunted dismissively, rolling her eyes. "So, what's her fire type?"

"Lightning."

"Shot limit?"

"I don't know."

"I thought you were gathering notes?"

"She only used lightning to burn the eel when I did the eel test." I could remember vividly how the poor thing burst into bits with a sickening _pop_. "And…she uses it to hunt."

"How?" Borghild was actually curious now.

"She shocks them—the wild boars." I sat in the snow, pushing aside a thick leg bone. Borghild hesitated a moment, staring at the bones, and then followed my lead. "She doesn't blast lightning at them like you'd think."

Darkcrown made an odd sound, a mix of a rolling laugh and a harsh cough. We watched her, curious, as she tilted her head rapidly from side to side, her eyes taking on a faint silver glow. I gasped—her pupils were glowing, too! It was a darker, purer silver than her eyes. Darkcrown snapped her jaws, tiny bolts of lightning darting between her teeth.

"I guess…that's how she does it?" I finished.

"Her eyes glow!" blurted Kari's cousin.

"Only when she's about to breathe lightning."

Borghild stood. Darkcrown eyed her curiously, the light dimming until her eyes were back to normal. "You need to tell everyone else," she demanded. "Your family at least."

"What!" I stood as well, narrowing my eyes. "Why?"

She sighed dramatically, as if the answer is stupidly obvious. "Just how long did you plan on keeping Darkcrown a secret? Not for any longer than this, I hope!"

"Just for a little longer," I spat.

"How much? Darkcrown doesn't live here. She must be homesick by now."

I opened my mouth to shout out an answer, but my throat went dry. How long was I going to keep my family and friends in the dark? And, through that, how long was I going to keep Darkcrown away from _her_ friends and family? I glanced at my Dragon, whose eyes kept shifting between us, confused. She was shuffling, her tail sliding, smoothing away snow. How was I even going to _hint_ at Darkcrown's presence?

Borghild crossed her arms. "Well?"

I faced my friend and sighed deeply. "I'll leave my sketchbook out in the main room. Then I'll wait for them to come to me."

Borghild made a face and then waved her hand, as if swatting away a fly. "Fine, whatever." She turned back to Darkcrown, who tilted her head and leaned forward. Borghild's expression changed from exasperated to thoughtful.

"So, why don't _you_ have a Dragon?" I asked after a few moments.

"None of them interested me." My friend's attention was focused directly on Darkcrown, who was enjoying herself, purring as gentle fingers caressed her smooth, scaly head. Even so, Borghild looked defensive and tense. "So I made the same excuse you did."

"Why? And don't shrug it off!"

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, her fingers pausing over my Dragon's left eye; Darkcrown made a sound of protest. "Because I feel like my Dragon isn't on Berk," came the soft reply. "I can't explain it—I feel like my Dragon is _out there_, not _here_. I told my parents that I was still looking, like you did, which isn't really a lie." A frown formed on her face. "The only problem is finding that Dragon."

Seeing Borghild like this made me feel upset and guilty. Everyone on Berk had Dragons, up from Gothi, the fragile town elder, to the smallest child. Borghild was truly alone. She was off to the side, watching with hidden sadness as everyone enjoyed themselves.

My tone softened. "When did it start? Feeling like that, I mean."

A devious smile formed on her lips. "Do you remember when we chased the animals on Hetop's farm? Yeah. I wanted to ignore it. And then your mother took us to the stables and made it worse." Her sour expression reappeared.

"Oh. Sor—"

"Don't apologize. I know what I did was wrong. But I couldn't find any other way." Her smile reemerged, her proud personality returning. "Dad just congratulated me. Mom gave me a slap on the wrist." She shrugged nonchalantly and then strolled away, towards the village. "I'll see you later."

I blinked. "You're leaving, just like that?"

"Yeah! It's nearly dinner—I have to be home before then." She began to jog off. "Bye!"

I sighed. "See ya." Darkcrown nudged me, staring at me curiously.

"I need to go, too."

Large silver eyes blinked at me.


	11. Meet Darkcrown

**Happy Fourth of July!**

The air was getting cooler as the sun lowered to the horizon. It was about a hand's length from setting; the sky was already tinted orange and pink. As I walked up to my home, I saw a flash of woody brown scales. Cloudjumper appeared from the side of the house, rumbling at me softly as he approached. His presence meant that Grandma was home. Mom and Dad were probably still out and about, tending to the needs of the tribe.

I stretched out my arm. "Hey, Cloudjumper." He let out a hum and pressed his hooked nose to my hand. Then I walked inside. After giving my grandmother a hug and talking with her for a while, I retreated to my room, proud of myself for keeping my voice level.

I didn't tell them that night. Or the day after.

Borghild was already at the clearing when I trekked through the forest to visit Darkcrown. She narrowed her eyes at me. "Did you tell them?" she asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

I pursed my lips and hesitated.

"No, you didn't." Borghild stood, sweeping her blond hair back. A devilish grin formed on her face. "Let's _show_ them then, shall we?"

"Wait! I don't know how she handles crowds!" I blocked my friend's way. Darkcrown was shuffling behind her, her head tilted to the side.

"We'll just have to see," she stated.

"Borghild!"

"Just our friends, no more," she answered smoothly. "After that, you'll have to deal with everyone else."

My lips pursed again, thinking over her words. "Fine. When do you want to do it?"

Her answering smile made me shiver.

The next day, my friends and I flew around Berk. This time I rode with Kari on Sunwing—and thank the Gods I did, I was getting tired of Jetfire's rowdy way of flight. Olin was content to let Borghild sit with him.

We flew over places I didn't even know could exist on this Isle! We glided under grand arches, through short tunnels, and even rested on a platform hovering above the roaring sea.

When we landed near the Great Hall some time after noon, Borghild slid off Blazer's saddle. She smiled and said, "Iona and I need to show you something."

Olin raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side, doubtful. He dismounted, leaning against his Snafflefang. "Really?"

"Yeah. Iona can attest to that, _right?"_

Everyone turned to me, even the Dragons. I resisted the urge to suck in my lip. "Yeah. In the forest."

Haldor snorted. "What are you going to show us—a rock? Your favorite tree?"

I scowled. "No. Something better." When he directed an incredulous glare at me, I added, "Something no one on Berk has seen before."

Both Kari—who was still sitting on her Dragon—and Olin blinked, eager. But Haldor only sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. Lead the way."

As we weaved through the streets of our village, Olin sped up towards me. He nudged my shoulder a few times. "So! What's this secret, Iona?"

Borghild, who was walking at my other side, said, "Something you'll never forget."

Olin shivered with excitement. I could imagine Haldor groaning behind us.

Kari asked, "Can you at least give us a hint?" We skirted a large group of Vikings and Dragons, heading onto a pathway leading to the outskirts of the village and into the forest. There were less people here and even fewer chances to be overheard—if Haldor kept his voice quiet.

"Dragon." Borghild narrowed her eyes at me.

"What?" Haldor exclaimed. "A _Dragon?_ That's your big secret? It's totally not like there are hundreds of Dragons here!"

"She's special!" I retorted, turning to face my cousin. He hadn't dismounted from Jetfire's neck. The blue Nightmare, however, had noticed this and seemed annoyed. He looked like he wanted to throw his rider from his saddle—I wondered if he was actually going to do it. "You'll see."

His voice high-pitched from excitement, Olin nearly screamed, "A new Dragon?" He threw his hands over his mouth, his eyes scanning the area wildly, just as Borghild and I shushed him. "What does she look like?"

I answered, "She looks and walks like a Nightmare, has the head of a Night Fury, and has frills like Cloudjumper."

"And her scales hide her in plain sight," added Borghild. As we crossed into the forest, she kicked up some snow. "She could attack you and you wouldn't know until impact! Well, you'd be dead."

I shot her a warning glare, to which she just smiled smugly and shrugged.

We traveled the rest of the way, answering questions Olin and Kari—and occasionally Haldor—threw at us. When we neared the clearing, the Dragons became attentive, their eyes wide, their bodies tense. They caught Darkcrown's scent.

I peered through the trees and foliage, trying to make out Darkcrown's form. She was up ahead, her own eyes as large as plates—possibly larger because of her size. Her frills were fanned as well, trying her best to sense the bodies before her. She looked intimidating.

I motioned for everyone to stop and pressed forward. To my annoyance, Borghild followed me.

"Hey, Darkcrown," I soothed. She shifted in her makeshift nest. I noticed more bones than usual marking the outline, some of them fresh. "They're just friends, like Borghild. Remember? I told you about them not too long ago."

"We came to introduce them to you," Borghild said. Then she turned to me, her eyes expectant. When I gave her a slight nod, she turned and bellowed, "Come over here!"

My friends burst through the forest and into the clearing.

"You weren't joking!" Haldor leaned forward in his saddle, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. Jetfire was mimicking his expression.

Kari dismounted, her expression that of wonder and awe. "How long have you known?" Beside her, Sunwing was watching my Dragon, his head tilted, his spiky crest pricked.

"A long time," I responded.

Darkcrown made a few deep, tinkling sounds in her throat. The other Dragons made responding growls and hisses and relaxed.

Borghild observed them. "See? They're getting along well." Then she spoke to me, her hands on her hips. "And it took you three days!"

"I didn't think to speak with my friends, first."

"What?" Kari made her way towards us, leaving her Nadder to communicate with Darkcrown. He was bobbing up and down, his head tilted and wings flared. "Three days for what?"

"I'd like to hear it too." Haldor stomped towards us, followed by Olin, and crossed his arms. "How long have you kept her a secret?"

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Sit down. This'll be long."

.:*+*:.

_"__Five months?"_ Haldor was so loud that even the Dragons paused in their rambunctious playing to gaze at him in interest. "You kept Darkcrown a secret from us for _five_ months?" He was gesturing wildly at my Dragon, who had resumed her little game with the others. They were throwing bones around, a Dragonese version of catch.

"Four and a half," I corrected. "But yeah."

"Well, she's no longer a secret now." Kari stretched nonchalantly, popping some bones in her spine in a stretch. Then she reached over and grasped a sail-shaped bone. "So she collects bones to make her nest?"

"Makes you wonder about the adults." Olin nodded at his own statement, turning to study Darkcrown. "If she's _that_ big, do you think the adults are bigger than Cloudjumper? Maybe even the Boneknapper?"

Kari shook her head. "Mom told me that the Boneknapper was huge. If that's the case," she blinked at my Dragon, "Darkcrown is little more than a baby."

Borghild narrowed her eyes. "Then how did she end up on Berk?"

They all stared at me. I flinched. "She was here when I found her!" I paused, shifting through my memory. "Now that I think about it…I never saw her move for the first week or two. I mean, she moved from place to place in the clearing, but she was still."

"What do you mean 'still'?" Haldor interrogated.

"She only moved her head, neck, and frills. She wasn't like…like _that_." Darkcrown was batting at Jetfire with her wing-claws, her head low and tilted to the side, her reflective back arched. She greatly resembled Toothless—if he'd do something like that. Jetfire was snapping playfully at her, holding himself up with his wings.

I noticed that she no longer seemed to be limping and smiled.

"Are you saying that…maybe she was hurt?" Olin was wide-eyed with pity and sadness, lifting up his arms to hide his mouth behind clenched hands.

"She may have been tired," I responded quickly.

Haldor murmured something under his breath. When I glanced at him, I noticed that he was eyeing me with admiration, hidden behind his usual arrogant expression.

"Have you ridden her yet?" Olin asked, scooting closer. "What's it like? Where do you sit?"

"Slow down!" Kari scolded. "Darkcrown looks nearly impossible to ride—there's nowhere to sit!"

"There is, actually." All eyes were pinned on me. "I sit on her back, using her frill tips to steady myself." I straightened my back proudly. "She only walks from place to place, but I'm glad she lets me ride her."

Olin, concerned, protested, "But wouldn't that feel uncomfortable?"

I leaned forward; the others, alerted, did the same. "I think there are people where Darkcrown lives. A wild Dragon would've tried to run away or attack, right? Darkcrown just stared at me."

Olin gasped. "Are you trying to say that she's feral, but is acquainted with people?"

We were all quiet, the excited cries of our Dragons faint in the background.

"She has to go back." Kari's voice was soft, tilting her head downward slightly.

I immediately glanced at Borghild, but her face betrayed nothing.

Then my broad-shouldered cousin stretched. "Enough of this. Tell us about her!" He stared at me intensely. "What have you found out? I'm sure you gathered notes."

Olin gasped. "Oh! Species name!"

"And fire type?" Kari urged.

"_Now_ we're talkin'," Borghild sneered, yet she seemed genuinely happy.

I smiled. "The placeholder species name is the Waterscale, and her fire type is lightning…"

.:*+*:.

"Iona, we need to talk." A few days later, Dad caught me right as I planned to make a detour to visit Darkcrown. Yet, to my surprise, he led me into the forest, but away from the path to the clearing.

We traveled in the thinning snow for a while, making small talk, until Toothless perked and bounded ahead. When we caught up to him, there was a large opening in the ground, hosting a small pool of water. The water mimicked Darkcrown's scales—reflecting the sky and part of the cove walls. The bowl was mostly overrun with vegetation, and I even saw a lonely tree a ways from the water.

Dad took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, smiling at a memory. "This is where I would meet up with Toothless many years ago. This is where Berk's history began to change for the better." He sat and gestured for me to do the same. "When my dad set off to look for the Queen's nest, I would steal away to this cove and try to help Toothless fly again. In fact, he's how I learned some of the many dragon secrets."

Toothless nudged Dad and crooned happily.

It was silent for a while before Dad removed something from his cape. My heart fluttered.

My sketchbook.

"I didn't mean to pry," Dad started, smiling apologetically, "but I noticed that it was open. And there was a note saying that I could look."

"Oh…yeah. I meant that." I'd opened the book the previous night. At first it was accidentally, but I decided after a brief mental battle that it'd be for the best—I even wrote a little note, giving my permission to browse.

"Alright then." Dad opened my sketchbook and flipped to Darkcrown's section. He studied the images I drew with approving smiles and nodded at the notes. "Waterscale, you say? Reflective scales? Oh, and a nest of boar bones!" The Chief of Berk hummed with curiosity and faced me. "Care to take me to your Dragon?"

I nodded and stood. "Follow me."


	12. Who Are You?

The snow had started to thin out, Darkcrown noticed, and the hint of freshness was in the air. Her scattered bone nest that she'd lost to the snow alongside her new friends was beginning to resurface. The Mirrorscale busied herself with the lengthy process of collecting the glistening bones and positioned them in their predestined spots with her wing claws. Her nest had to be perfect, even if it was only temporary! If a bone was even one _leaf_ out of position, she'd frustrate herself putting it into place.

It was a flaw all Mirrorscales had—they were perfectionists when it came to their nests. Her Alpha even started a joke long ago: to distract a raging Mirrorscale, just kick the nearest bone. The Dragon will drop everything to put it back.

By the time her nest was in its correct placement and position, Darkcrown could sense movement. She could tell by the vibrations that it was her life mate, yet there were others with her. A leather-bound Dragon and an animal-skin-furred human.

Darkcrown lifted her head as the vibrations became clearer, more distinct, and saw Iona, a human who had the same head-fur color, and a black Dragon that looked similar to a Wind Glider, one of the Dragon species of her homeland.

He had power in his grassy-green glare. Darkcrown instinctively lowered her head, acknowledging his authority.

Iona trotted into the clearing to caress the Mirrorscale's smooth head. "Darkcrown, this is my dad, the Chief of Berk," the animal-skin-furred human, "and Toothless, Berk's Alpha," the Wind Glider-Dragon.

Darkcrown hummed but kept her head low.

The Alpha stalked forward. "What are you?" he grunted.

"A Mirrorscale," replied Darkcrown. Even on her belly, Darkcrown was taller than the Alpha.

He huffed. "What's your name?"

Darkcrown hesitated, raising her head slightly. "My hatchname? It's Moonlit Fang."

Iona and her sire were talking softly. They had moved away to give the Dragons space.

The Alpha sat. "Moonlit Fang, huh? Where're you from? Rather—how did you get here?"

Darkcrown sighed. "I'm from Djor. It's up North. And I got here after being out at sea for days…" The Mirrorscale recounted her tale of a horrible blizzard sweeping through the land. One particular gust of wind caught her wings, pulling painfully at one of her shoulders, and flung her out to sea. With each and every attempt to fly away, the wind would drag her back.

By the time the blizzard let up, Djor was nowhere to be seen, and Darkcrown was left to the mercy of the sea and any sea life. When Berk came into view many days later, Darkcrown had scrambled onto the land and rested, carefully exploring to look for other Dragons. "And then Iona found me here."

The Alpha's hummed. "How is your shoulder?"

Darkcrown leaned to her west and flexed her affected wing, lifting it high into the air. She heard the humans make sounds of intrigue, followed by the scratch of the twig on the dry-leaf bundle. What was once a terrible stinging was now a dull pain, but Darkcrown wasn't sure if she'd be willing to fly just yet. "It's better than it was, but it still hurts."

Just then she noticed the Alpha's tail. One of his tail fins was replaced with a bright red material with a pattern that was eerily similar to the pattern of the Vikings that lived on her side of the mountains.

Then Iona reappeared with her sire. "We're going to take you to the village."

.:*+*:.

Darkcrown didn't know Dragons could have four wings, or two heads. It was odd that she would think that, considering that her Alpha in Djor had eight legs. Little Dragons fluttered and skittered around her body, squeaking and hissing up a storm. They reminded Darkcrown of Flutterscreams, tiny Dragons—smaller than these—who screech and shriek when something even remotely interesting was happening.

The Alpha had led her to a house on a hill. The hill overlooked the whole of the tribe's village. Surrounding them were the Dragons native to Berk: ones that looked like rocks, the little ones, long-bodied Dragons with crooked horns that were known as Monstrous Nightmares, two-legged Dragons with a crown of spikes known as Deadly Nadders, and many others.

So many different Dragons!

Iona and her sire, the Chief, went into the large wood-house off to the side of the hill. Vikings were still hurrying in, with many pausing and craning their necks as best as they could to look at Darkcrown.

Darkcrown's eyes scanned the crowd. She couldn't help a pleased purr and the flutter of her frills when she saw Blazer, Jetfire, and Sunwing near the front. Their eyes were wide with concern and confusion. She could tell they desperately wanted to talk to her, to ask her what she was doing in the village.

"This is Moonlit Fang," the Alpha started, hushing the racket of the curious natives. "She'll be staying with us for the time being until she's fit enough to go home."

"Home?" snarled a Monstrous Nightmare. He was as red as the mountain berries that grew during the Sunface. He might be Hookfang, the Dragon Jetfire lives with. "We've been to many places, Toothless, and none of the Dragons we've met looks like _you._" He pointed his horned snout at Darkcrown. "Far from it. What are you, Moonlit Fang? Where're you from?"

"I'm a Mirrorscale, and I'm from Djor. It's up North," she repeated.

"How far North?" snapped Hookfang.

"The Bright Star. It would be directly above us." On Djor, there was a star that, no matter the Moon's position in the sky, would stay in the same place. Here, the Bright Star would change positions throughout the night. Along with the Bright Star, Darkcrown faintly recognized the surrounding stars in the sky.

Continued Hookfang, "You aren't fit to fly, Moonlit Fang? How did you get here?"

Darkcrown recounted her story and earned sympathetic croons from some of the Dragons, mostly from the females with hatchlings old enough to leave the nest. In fact, the Mirrorscale could see little, wide-eyed Dragons who were clustered around the feet and under the bellies of their dams.

The four-winged Dragon tilted his head. "Your scent is familiar, Moonlit Fang. Iona was often cloaked in your scent when she came home. You smell like pine cones," he observed, "but not exactly."

"You smell…sweeter," added a Dragon who looked like Blazer. A Snafflefang.

Darkcrown nodded. "Evergreens. All Mirrorscales naturally smell like evergreens."

"Evergreen?" To the Alpha's east was a short, large Dragon with beautiful green scales on his neck. His head was lifted proudly as he regarded Darkcrown with small eyes. "What is that?"

"Trees that are green all year." If anything, it was the land itself that changes color.

The Dragons murmured to one another, almost as if they couldn't imagine such a thing. Darkcown could understand—she herself had a hard time taking in the trees of Berk when she scuttled up the island not too long ago. They were completely void of all their vegetation, yet they still managed to block out the sky!

The Alpha motioned for silence. "Do you have Vikings in Djor, Moonlit Fang?"

She perked, her frills fanned. "Yes! The red fin on your tail, Alpha, with the pattern on it. It looks like the one the Vikings on my side of the mountains use, only the horns aren't like those. They're moose horns."

He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing with confusion. "Moose?"

"Really tall deer. Aggressive, too—especially one with her hatchlings. Or _calves,_ as the Vikings call them. Moose are taller than Vikings themselves, and are even strong enough to hurt a Dragon if they're not careful." All around her, Dragons snorted and hissed, skeptical and interested.

The Alpha continued, "And the Vikings on the other side of the mountains?"

She shook her head. "I don't know much about them, only that they live in the evergreen forest, and that their pattern has the horns of caribou." A Mirrorscale in her flock, named Conifer by her long-gone life mate, hatched on the other side of Djor. She said that the Vikings there ride and eat caribou and wear the pelts of bears.

A boulder Dragon snapped his jaws. "What is caribou?"

Darkcrown twisted her neck to face him, relying on the information Conifer was willing to share. "A type of deer, only they're smaller than Vikings. And they're only seen on that side of Djor. Like how moose are only seen on my side."

Before the Alpha could ask another question, there was cheering. The Dragons turned to the giant wood-house and saw Vikings emerging from the tall, heavy-looking doors. The stampede made its way up to surround the Dragons, who made room for them.

Iona appeared, reaching for Darkcrown. "We're going to take you home!"


	13. Getting Ready

We had to get provisions ready, for ourselves and for our Dragons. My friends and I were given giant baskets to fill up with fish from the feeding stations while our parents produced breads, fruits and vegetables, and salted meats. I was shaking from excitement and anxiety, from the discussion that passed and for the coming trip.

Dad had called a meeting with the whole of the village while the Dragons crowded around Toothless and Darkcrown. I had to explain my Dragon to everyone and my concerns for her well-being, allowing people to browse Darkcrown's pages in my sketchbook. I told them I wanted to take her back home since she didn't belong on Berk.

Many people were skeptical. Why should they listen to a child? Would Darkcrown even remember her way back? Why should they waste resources and energy to enter a land they didn't know existed? Why couldn't Darkcrown just stay here—she'll go home when she's ready!

Mom suggested that a small group take Darkcrown home. That way much effort wouldn't be wasted on what many believe is a futile idea. The Vikings who wanted to see Darkcrown home agreed. Those who didn't murmured amongst themselves but kept quiet.

The group consisted of me and my friends, Mom, Grandma, Auntie Ruffnut, Uncles Tuffnut, Fishlegs, Snotlout, and Eret, and about three other members of the tribe. Dad wouldn't be going. Uncle Gobber wasn't going either; he claimed he was too old for such adventures now, and that someone needed to stay behind to cater to the citizens.

"Iona," started Haldor, eyes narrowed with concern, "you're tense."

I could only stare blankly at him. "Did I do the right thing? Maybe the others were right. Maybe Dakcrown would take herself home when she's ready."

Borghild snorted, dropping a fat cod into her basket. "Don't listen to them."

Kari nodded. "It seems they would like to admire Darkcrown from a distance and pray to Odin that she solves her own problems."

I frowned. "But she can't! Not now…"

Olin smiled reassuringly. "Darkcrown will let us know when she's ready." His gaze swept over to behind us, towards my house, where my Dragon was with Toothless, Skulcrusher, Hookfang, and Cloudjumper on a hill that was losing most of its snow, gazing out past the pillars that towered over the village. It was as if they too were talking about her return to her home, wherever it is. I sent a quick prayer up to Odin and Thor, asking them to help Darkcrown remember her way home.

He added, "And I think the others will drop hints, too."

.:*+*:.

"You said the Bright Star would be above us, right?" The Alpha was practically invisible in the darkness of the night. His broad head was turned upwards, his eyes focused on the bright point of light in the sky. Here, the one star Darkcrown knew so well was surprisingly small and could easily be confused with other stars just as bright; in Djor, it was one of the biggest stars in the sky and its brightness was on par with the Moon.

"Yeah." Darkcrown swallowed, nervous, excited. It would be a long flight to get to Djor.

The four-winged Dragon named Cloudjumper rumbled. He, too, was gazing at the Bright Star. He was going to be one of the many Dragons who were going to help escort Darkcrown home. "How long would you say, Moonlit Fang?"

"To get home? At least two months, if we don't get off track."

The green-scaled Dragon, whose name was Skullcrusher, hummed deep in his throat. "Do you remember anything significant during your time at sea?"

It was all a blur. Pain, fatigue, despair. Darkcrown remembered the Sun and the Moon battling for dominance in the sky, as it was still the Moonface when the blizzard hit. "I remember passing a few islands, but they were too far away to get to. And…oh!" Her frills flared. The Sunface! "The season is changing in Djor. There are birds, other Dragons, and water-prey that migrate towards my home. The Dragons always come from the West, as do the birds. We should be able to cross paths with them."

Hookfang narrowed his eyes. "So it's settled?"

"But your wings," countered Cloudjumper. "Don't rush yourself, Moonlit Fang. Let us know when you're ready to set off, and we will gather our riders and leave."

Darkcrown nodded, watching her new friends turn to leave, ready to settle down for the night. She watched them go their separate ways—save for the Alpha and Cloudjumper—and sighed deeply. With a final, determined glare at the Bright Star, the young Mirrorscale pivoted to follow the Alpha.


	14. Still Waiting

**I apologize for the long wait!**

Lashing Tail sat at the entrance to the caves, watching the Sunrise. The new year had begun when the Moon gave up its territory to the Sun, allowing it to melt the snow and coax flowers from the ground. With the Sun came the migrating Dragons and prey and hatchlings of all kinds.

She flared her scarlet-tipped frills, feeling faint vibrations caress them from the South, and turned her attention towards the disturbance. In the distance were two young Noxious playing in the air, darting towards one another and grappling at one another's legs in a harmless attempt to pull the other down. Lashing Tail sensed their dam nearby, making sure they didn't hurt themselves.

The silver Mirrorscale sighed.

Somebody approached from behind. "I know that feeling, Lash." Howling Wind settled to her side, staring out into the distance. "I know what it's like to lose a hatchling."

Lashing Tail blinked, lifting her head. "At least Green River was always nearby." Green River was one of Howl's more energetic hatchlings. She was a natural explorer and often caused her dam more than her fair share of worry. Green mellowed out with age but is known to retreat to one of her many hiding places for a few days before coming back. Howl had grown used to it over the years but she never stopped fearing the worst for her hatchling.

Howl studied her flockmate, younger than her only by a few years. "Moon will return, Lash. None of us dare say the opposite."

The younger Dragon bared her hooked teeth and lifted her frills slightly. "_Some_ Dragons do." Lashing Tail received as much support as she did criticism. And that was because of a certain species that outnumbered and pestered everyone else.

Howl snorted. "You listen to those Flutterscreams? You know all they do is gossip!"

"You know how their words lodge themselves under your scales. You were subject to that more times that you're willing to admit."

"You were never one to snowcoat anything, Lash," the other Dragon purred, shaking out her frills. "Yes, they got to me many times—I have my wonderful Green to thank for that. A good growl will send those noisy bugs scattering!"

Lash huffed with amusement and they both went silent, listening to the song of the land and the low roar of the sea looming in the far distance.

Howl craned her neck to press her nose to Lash's jaw. "I'd tell you to keep your chin up, but you've always been doing that." The green-bodied Mirrorscale trotted away into the caves, her form disappearing behind a rocky bend. In Howl's place were four small Mirrorscales that peered tentatively from the stalagmites—Lash's hatchlings.

Lash crooned and lowered her head as they neared, turning her body so she could better face them. Four beautiful, healthy young Mirrorscales, all grieving for their lost hatchmate. "Where is Sun's Tooth?"

"He's asleep in our nest," replied Rushing River, the eldest of the hatchlings. Lash named him so due to his blue frills. They reminded her of the river that fed into the sea from the far side of the valley; as the snow melted during the Sunface, the water would crash and tumble over itself, turning white in the process.

"Sun's Tooth hunted earlier," added Starlit Scale. "He left some for you."

Their mother hummed, rippling her frill tips with gratitude at the gesture. She'd chosen a worthy mate. "Have you eaten?"

Falling Snow nodded. "We just wanted to make sure you wouldn't starve," she warbled. The second youngest hatchling purred as her mother nuzzled her.

"I'll eat soon. Don't worry about me."

Ice Tail hummed. "We're all worrying about Moon," he corrected.

Lash blinked at him. "Go back to Sun's Tooth. I'll come soon, I promise." Rush, Fall, and Ice turned back the way they came, but Star hesitated. Lash faced her. "What is it, Star?"

She furrowed her brows, her frills partially raised. "You're going to visit the Alpha again, aren't you?"

Lash dipped her head slightly. "Yes."

Star hesitated again but ultimately decided to follow her hatchmates, who had disappeared into the tunnel. "I'll see you at the nest, Lashing Tail."

"You too, Star." The Mirrorscale waited until her hatchling disappeared from view before launching herself from the ledge, dropping many Dragonlengths towards the evergreen forest below before spreading her large wings. After ascending for a few heartbeats she banked to her East, gliding into the valley.

The Alpha alternated between two resting spots. The main one was in a lake located in the middle of the valley. While Lash could see the large body of water against the snowcapped forest, it would still take many wing beats to get there. She could see the membrane of ice that covered the surface of the lake, making it seem like the Alpha had not used it is ages.

But Lash knew well enough that the Alpha rarely ever breaches the surface; more often than not she likes to rest just underneath it, against the inner edges of the lake.

"Lashing Tail!" A Wind Glider, his scales caught between silver and brown with the changing of the season, beat his wings rapidly to catch up to the larger Dragon. He steered clear of Lash's wings, which were broad enough to batter him out of the air, and positioned himself over her head.

Lash trilled a small greeting. "Little-Claw."

Little-Claw was a hatchlinghood friend of Lash's, despite the fact that he lives in the valley whereas Lash hatched in the mountain caves. "Off to visit the Alpha once more? My clan and I never stopped looking, you know."

She hummed. "Thanks, Little-Claw."

"Are you alright, Lashing Tail?" Little-Claw inquired. "You seem off." His blue eyes widened and his head nubs perked in realization and fear. "Please don't tell me you've…"

Lash tilted her head to the side to fix an eye on the Wind Glider. "I'm never giving up hope, Little-Claw! I truly believe Moon will return one day. I just need advice to cope, that's all."

The silvery-brown Dragon sighed with relief and shook his head. "Ah, that's it then. Well, last time I saw the Alpha was yesterday. She was just beyond the shore."

Beyond the shore. The Alpha always entered the underwater caverns of the mountains that way to rest in her snow-laden nest. "Thanks."

Little-Claw nodded and banked heavily to his West, tilting his body into a dive. Lash herself angled her body downward, as there was a cave in the valley that led directly to the Alpha's lair.

The Mirrorscale landed in a clearing, scaring away a short-tailed forest cat that hissed at her as it ran. The land sloped upwards steadily and trees became sparse as it led towards the mountains. As Lash made her way to the cave she passed a large boulder that was held prisoner by the twisting roots of a large evergreen—a marker that she was going in the right direction.

The snow had yet to relinquish its hold over the forest, but it was slowly giving way to the Sun. The land was just warm enough to start the steady drips of ice water falling from the trees and bushes. Despite this, Lash's bulky form brushing up against trees she couldn't avoid caused snow to fall in heaps onto her body. She simply shook off what she could and continued on her way.

Up ahead the forest was beginning to thin out. The base of the mountains was near.

Like a gaping mouth filled with fangs of ice and rock, the entrance into the Alpha's lair welcomed the Mirrorscale into its depths. Lash could see well into the tunnel because of the pale light streaming in, and her body cast sharp reflections, but soon she'd have to rely on vibrations and scent alone to reach the Alpha's snowy nest.

Many heartbeats later there was a steady source of vibrations and the air became cold and crisp. It was an ice water river that ran under the mountains and fed into the Alpha's lair. The river was located in a chamber where a Dragon could easily glide over it and land at the other side. When Lash entered the chamber, she noted that the water level was slightly higher than it should've been due to the heavy snowfall from the recent Moonface.

Lash kept to the Eastward side of the river, using the vibrations of the rushing water to guide her. Along the way there came a branch in the path. Lash kept Eastward—the Westward stream led to a larger cavern that could only be useful to sea Dragons.

The scent changed and the vibrations became dull. The Alpha's lair was just ahead.

Lash was bathed with light as she entered a chamber that opened up to the sea. She deviated away from the river, trudging through snow as she made her way to the large, battle-scarred Dragon that watched her approach, leaning lazily against a wall of rock.

Lashing Tail bowed her head, spreading and fluttering her frills in submission.

The Alpha rumbled and tilted her head downwards to better view the Mirrorscale. "Hello, Lashing Tail."

"I just want advice, Alpha." Lash lifted her head to cast a very tired gaze towards the other Dragon. It was hard to remain strong, but she did so for her hatchlings and mate. The possibility of Moon being dead was not far, but it was better to believe she was alive and fighting than dead and being picked at by lesser predators.

"On what?"

"This pain. I have hope my hatchling will come back, but I don't want it to become a dream. I don't want to chase my hope like a hatchling does a snowflake or a butterfly while the flock watches in pity."

The Alpha rumbled in amusement. "No. You were never one to engage in such hatchlinglike behavior." Her tone became serious. "Focus on your mate and hatchlings, but keep Moonlit Fang in your heart. Prepare yourself for the high possibility of her never coming back, but don't be afraid to wish that she does." The Alpha leaned forward and blew a flurry of snow over Lash, who watched the little snowflakes flutter around her.

"Grieve if you must, but a little hope never hurts, Lashing Tail."


End file.
